


The Wedding Gift

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [95]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	The Wedding Gift

  
**Players only.**  
**Backdated to:** December 2013  
**Warnings:** M/s, breath play, humiliation.

 

Stephen had persuaded Antony to let him drive out to Van Nuys, in the vain hope that concentrating on driving would distract him from the excitement of seeing his wedding gift; his own freaking private jet. The idea still sits oddly with him, and if he's honest he's still somewhat uncomfortable with the extravagance of it, but...it's a gift, a thoughtful gift, given to make his and Antony's life easier.

Parking up, he slides out of the car, pulling on his baseball cap and grinning over the roof of the car at his lover.

"Can I get it painted green?" he teases, it'd been an ongoing joke all the way here, and had started with 'can I have a gold plated toilet?'

Antony shakes his head. "You can't do anything to it at this point," he says. "Except maybe switch some of the interior choices." Although he hates to think how much that would run him. He knocks at the hangar door, grinning widely when Andreas himself answers. "And here I thought you were going to send one of your lackeys."

"I would have, if we hadn't already been here," Andreas says with a laugh. "Christina's shopping and I excused myself to see you." He grins at them both. "You must be Stephen."

Hat quickly removed and shoved in his back pocket, Stephen offers his hand. "Hi! Yes, yes I am," he smiles easily, the warmth with which Antony had greeted the man indicating he can relax.

Antony makes the introductions, careful to introduce Stephen as his partner, not husband. "The kids okay?" he asks as they step inside the cavernous building, note made of the security team - his people - on site, scattered around the hangar.

"I have six," Andreas tells Stephen proudly. "Four boys, two girls, and they're all wonderful, thanks to their mother."

"Wow, that's quite the brood," Stephen grins, "I can't possibly imagine what that must be like, except loud and busy." His gaze however slides away, from Andreas to the three planes sat in the hanger. One of which is _his_.

"Yours is the last one," Andreas says as they pass the other two. "I put you in with Abdullah and Stefan," he tells Antony. "I assume that's good?"

Antony nods. "Very. We handle security for everyone so it works out well."

The jet's already open, the passenger stairs in place. "You can go and look," Andreas tells Stephen, motioning in that direction. "We'll catch up."

He approaches the plane with his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning it and taking it all in, taking the stairs up he steps inside and stops. It's beautiful, and it screams class and money, serious money. The inside is picked out in shades of beige, from the carpet to the cream leather upholstery, behind the more traditional airplane seats are a couple of sofas, a large flat screen TV, a bar and beyond that...a bed, a fucking bed. He knows tucked away is a small bathroom too - everything they could ever need while travelling. Moving slowly further in, Stephen trails his fingers over the different surfaces, his touch almost reverent. "Wow, just fucking wow," he murmurs to himself.

"You like it?" Antony asks, having come in behind Stephen, Andreas giving them a few minutes.

Stephen starts, turning to look at his husband. "It's..." he waves his hand around. "...I can't believe it, even now, even stood here, I can't believe this is mine," he shakes his head. "That conversation we had at your mom's... it seemed surreal in retrospect, it still does."

Antony nods. "It's a little over the top," he admits, looking around. "But I wanted to give you something no one else could. Not just the plane, but the whole... being able to travel without hiding. It's such a big part of our lives."

And when it's put like that...Stephen totally gets it. He reaches out to tug Antony closer, close enough he can slide an arm around his waist and press a kiss to his mouth. "Thank you, thank you so much darling man," he murmurs.

"You're welcome," Antony murmurs, eyes crinkling, stealing another kiss before he mentions, "Andreas wants to come in and give you the full tour, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Stephen nods, he gives Antony's waist a squeeze before stepping away, the temptation to distract himself with more kisses is right there, for some reason he's keenly aware of how Antony smells today, warm and male, a hint of sensual muskiness. Every time he moves in close he gets a whiff and it heightens the low level of arousal he's got going on.

"It's safe," Antony calls down the stairs, chuckling to himself. "You can come on up."

Andreas joins them, beaming at Stephen. "Do you like it? Are you happy with the colours? The configuration?"

 _Safe?_ He throws Antony a look before smiling at Andreas. "I love it, and I am still utterly overwhelmed by the whole thing," he admits, casting another look around them.

Antony shrugs. He was just assuring Andreas they weren't making out like mad or anything.

"Not everyone gets their own jet as a Christmas present," Andreas agrees, opening up the cockpit and showing Stephen how even the pilots get to fly in comfort and style.

 _Ahhh._ "True, though he's set the bar high for the future huh?" Stephen teases, eyeing all the screens, buttons and levers.

Andreas laughs. "Next year he can give you a yacht," he says happily, closing up and showing Stephen the fully-equipped galley, all china, glassware, linens and blankets already supplied. "That's what I did with my Christina."

"A yacht!" Stephen throws Antony a horrified look. The thing is now that he's learned that Antony could afford that, and has proved his propensity to extravagance when it comes to spoiling him. "No, no, I think this is more than enough for me, for a very, very long time," he assures Andreas as he's shown around the main cabin. It contains more than he might have ever guessed, even the facilities to have a meal cooked here, from scratch, during flight.

Andreas laughs again. "This is one thing men have over women," he says to Antony, continuing his tour with the main passenger cabin. "I've never heard a woman say anything is enough."

Antony makes a slight (and quick) face at Stephen behind Andreas. He adores his friend but the man's casual sexism, which thankfully only involves stereotypical generalizations and not how he treats his wife or daughters, is not something he shares. He chuckles and redirects, asking a question about the layout, Andreas pointing out that besides the bedroom they have four chairs that lean back fully and a sofa that converts to another bed.

"All in all, you can sleep eight," he tells them with pride.

"Eight!" Stephen is definitely experiencing overload. "I don't think we'll ever have a party on here, right?" He glances over at Antony. "Not sure I'm going to want to share it any time soon, not until the novelty has worn off a little."

"You can consider renting it out when you're not using it," Andreas points out. "Many of our customers do. It offsets the cost of the plane and crew and storage."

"We'll talk about that later," Antony tells Andreas.

"Of course," Andreas agrees, nodding, moving along in his tour, the large flat-screen televisions as well as the local wifi network pointed out. "And this is the crowning glory," he says, showing them first the passenger lavatory, quite a bit larger than a standard airplane lavatory, and the bedroom, which again can be closed off from the rest of the cabin. "Behind here," he says, knocking on the back wall, "is your baggage compartment. It can only be accessed when the jet is on the ground so anything you need onboard needs to be brought onboard."

"It's amazing, you've thought of everything." It'll sure make all of their travelling a total pleasure and not the pain in the ass it currently is. He smiles brightly at Andreas. "I'm blown away, seriously."

Andreas beams at Stephen and grabs his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "It's been my pleasure. Our pleasure. Antony's done so much for us over the years."

"Not that much," Antony protests.

"Enough," Andreas insists, uncertain what Stephen knows. "Enough." He shakes Antony's hand as well and wraps an arm around him for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll leave you alone now. One of the men will lock up when you're done."

Stephen watches the other man leave before dropping down into one of the seats, his fingers stroking the cool, high grade leather. "He lives in an entirely different league to us huh?" The casual mention of the yacht had confirmed that for Stephen. "This is insane," he looks up at Antony. "My own fucking jet."

Antony grins. "Entirely different," he agrees, "which reminds me. He left a plane-warming gift for us." He disappears into the galley for a minute before reappearing with two champagne glasses and a bottle of chilled Dom Pérignon.

"Ha!" Stephen laughs at that, delighted at the idea. "Shouldn't I smash it over the nose cone or something? Or should I save that for when I get my yacht?" He takes the glasses and holds them as Antony works the cork free. "I could get used to this, Tony."

"To jets and yachts and all that jazz?" Antony says, quickly filling their glasses, the bottle set aside.

"Being treated like royalty or some such shit." He offers up a glass to Antony and pats the seat beside him.

Antony takes the seat and clinks their glasses together. "To us," he says, "and to you deserving every bit of this."

"To my gorgeous, generous and slightly insane husband, who spoils me and makes me the happiest man on the planet," Stephen returns, his smile soft, his gaze for Antony alone.

Antony sips at his wine and then asks, eyes crinkling at their corners, "Slightly insane? What'd I do to deserve that?"

"I bought you a watch as a wedding gift, you buy me a private jet - there's a suggestion of insanity in that," Stephen points out, leaning in to offer his mouth for a kiss.

"You gonna have me committed when I buy you a yacht?" Antony murmurs against Stephen's lips.

"You're not gonna buy me a yacht," Stephen returns before he presses in, his tongue sweeping into his lover's mouth, tasting champagne and under that, the unique and heady flavour that is Antony.

Anything else Antony might have said disappears into that kiss. He groans, the passion behind it met and matched. "Are we christening this place or waiting til Nepal?"

"Waiting til Nepal," Stephen's laughing as he pulls away, bringing the glass to his mouth he gives their surroundings another one over. "I want to do that when we're in the air," he casts Antony a look. "So....the crew, will these be from your people? Or Cit?" It'd crossed his mind before today to ask, but he'd been repeatedly distracted until now.

"All Cit," Antony says. "There wouldn't be much point doing this if they weren't. They have a number of pilots and attendants on the roster so it might be different people each time but they'll all have been vetted, comped their own memberships or paid in lieu of the same."

"Cool," Stephen nods, slumped casually in his seat, his glass in hand he reaches out to rub his fingertip along the side of Antony's hand where it rests on the arm of the chair. "Also, I've been thinking that maybe I, or even we, could do with some help, with stuff, scheduling, arranging things, day to day shit we could both do without... what do you think?" He knows this is a huge ask, knows exactly how private Antony is, so he's prepared to either hear 'no' or to do some compromising.

Antony frowns a little. "What did you have in mind?"

"A PA, someone you've picked and vetted, someone who can keep on top of our diaries, help organise us, at home and when we're travelling." He leans forward a little. "I know this is not something you're going to be comfortable with, but could you think about it?"

Antony blows out a breath. "I can think about it, but I don't know that I need another person to deal with. I already talk to you, Marcus, our security, whoever's keeping track in the office..."

"But I could do with some extra help," Stephen points out gently. "I've gotten off lightly this year, but the show is doing so well I need to be out on the road a little more, doing fan events, award shows and all that shit. On top of which there's a chance I might get offered some other roles, film work. I've kept my people at arm's length since they kicked my ass right before I met you, but something has to give soon Tony, I just need to be prepared for it one way or another."

Antony's still not thrilled about the idea, but he can see the need for it. "So they'd know about us? And they'd stay out of my business except for my actual schedule - when I'm here, when I'm not..."

"Well, that's the sort of thing we need to discuss." He can see he's unsettled his husband, but it was something he needed to bring up. "I was wondering if it'd be better if they came from your side, someone who's trained in security too, someone you've vetted, someone you can put under a contract you've written. I need you to be as comfortable with this as possible,"

Antony nods. "I'll look into it when we get back from Goa," he says, thinking he might want to enlist Louis and Marie's help on this.

"Thank you." He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Antony's cheek.

"Like I could deny you," Antony says with a playfully exaggerated sigh. "Well, when it comes to this sort of thing," he clarifies quickly, amused.

"And what can you deny me hmm?" Stephen's lounging again, draining his glass and seriously considering another. It's Christmas right? And he is toasting his own plane.

"Permission to come," Antony says with a smile, refilling Stephen's glass and topping up his own, mindful of having to drive home later.

"You say that so casually, you're a wicked man Tony, must be why I love you so much," Stephen teases, making light of the one thing he still has some issues with. Especially given he knows he's skated close to the line in recent weeks.

"One of the many, many reasons, right?" Antony grins.

"Oh! You mean like the apartment right? And the vacations and now of course there's all that money..." He lifts his glass in salute. "All those reasons." This teasing and light heartedness have been almost constant since the wedding, a total counterpoint to the weeks immediately preceding it, and for that Stephen is hugely thankful. He's never been happier.

Antony snorts and reaches over, tickling Stephen's ribs. "That's what I get for spoiling you," he teases, loving the banter between them.

Wriggling back in his seat Stephen bats away Antony's too knowing fingers. "Stop it!" He knocks back the rest of his wine and rolls to his feet. "Right, next on the agenda? I've finished the decorations, you've done lunch with your Secret Squirrel Sidekick and we've _almost_ christened my beautiful plane..." he picks up the bottle of champagne and holds it up to eye the contents and gauge how much is left. "I want to go home and fuck," he announces, turning a mischievous gaze on his clearly amused husband.

"You do, do you?" Antony stays where he is, smiling, watching Stephen.

"Or the club," Stephen shrugs, an unusually devil may care attitude is making itself known and he brings the bottle to his mouth to take a drink.

"You in the mood to be on your knees?" Antony asks, draining his own glass.

The bottle is lowered slowly, and Stephen licks a stray drop of the champagne from his lower lip before he gives a small nod. "Yes Sir," the reply low and sure.

Fuck. "Your collar's at home," Antony says, rising to his feet. More because he's interested in Stephen's response than it actually mattering.

The bottle is set down with a soft thunk on a nearby surface and Stephen's brows draw together. "I'm wearing my collar," he points out. "And why would that matter? My collar isn't my submission or your ownership, it's a symbol of it, nothing more."

"Good answer," Antony nods, drawing closer. "And you _are_ wearing my collar," he lifts a hand, drawing his fingers along the tightly knitted links. "But I can't yank on this one." He grins, eyes crinkling.

"Then you'll have to use your hand on my throat," Stephen counters, shivering at the barely there caress of Antony's fingers on the sensitive skin on his neck.

Jesus Christ. Antony's cock gives a rough throb and he slides his hand up to cover Stephen's throat, fingers pressing in lightly before he pulls back. "Let's go."

Until that moment, Stephen had intended on taking the rest of the wine with him, however now he leaves it, forgotten as he follows Antony out and back to the car, half a step behind. The skin of his throat singing where Antony's hand held him for that brief moment.

Antony exchanges a few words with one of Andreas's security guys on the way, ensuring the plane will be locked up behind them, and then they're in the car, on their way to Citadel, his blood humming like crazy just under the surface. "Anything you're not in the mood for?"

The question surprises Stephen and he turns to look at his husband. "I'd prefer to not be beaten," he stops to think it through before correcting. "I'd rather not be in pain over the next few days." He watches Antony closely as he speaks, wondering what is going through his mind right now.

"That makes sense," Antony says, letting some ideas percolate. "You okay with pushing skating to tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'd assumed as much," Stephen gives a brief nod. He's very much enjoyed their few days of seasonally themed domesticity, but the sex has been about as vanilla as they get, and he's ready for some kink. More than ready.

Antony grins. "I told you last night I wanted to get my teeth on you," he says casually, glancing over at Stephen as they stop for a red light. Fuck. He can hardly wait until Stephen's piercing is completely healed.

Stephen squirms at that, the promise and the threat of it. He toys with the edge of his jacket, something to keep his fingers busy. "I... I was going to ask for something intimate, something intense," he admits quietly.

"You want to know? Or should I surprise you?" Antony asks, something about Christmas - and their honeymoon - putting him in a giving mood.

"I'd like to know." And at that Stephen has to reach down to adjust himself, his cock caught painfully in the fabric of his shorts as it thickens in anticipation.

"I'm going to bite you. I'm going to fuck you with my fingers," Antony says, continuing as the light turns green, "and bite you all over. Hard enough you'll still see the marks tomorrow. And if you keep from trying to stop me - because I won't be tying you down - I'll let you come. And when I'm finished, I'm going to put you on all fours, shove my cock up that tight cunt of yours, wrap my hand around your neck and fuck you so hard you'll taste me in the back of your throat."

A small noise escapes Stephen's mouth, an almost whimper of want and arousal. Anywhere else, with anyone else he'd be mortified but not here with his Sir. Antony earns those displays of pleasure, of the effect he has on Stephen.

"Thank you Sir," Stephen murmurs, his voice low and rough. He can already feel the world falling away, leaving him utterly focused on the man beside him.

Christmas traffic's even heavier than usual but Antony knows all the short-cuts and in no time, they're pulling up to Citadel, Antony choosing to take advantage of the valet parking for once. They check in at the front desk, Stephen a few steps behind him, and he palms the key card, taking his boy's hand because he _can_ and heading for the elevators.

Stephen's skin feels electrified where Antony's touches him, he has eyes for his Sir alone, the surroundings, the other people, are merely background noise. His entire body vibrates with sexual tension and the need to be on his knees.

Alone in the elevator, Antony turns to Stephen and leans in, pressing their lips together. Again, because he can. Here. Where they're free to do anything. "Take your clothes off, boy," he orders, drawing back.

Still licking the taste of his Sir from his mouth, Stephen starts in on his clothes, his jacket removed, his long sleeved top pulled off and folded, then he bends to set them on the floor, before tugging on his laces and toeing his way out of his boots. Jeans and underwear join the pile which he neatens before picked up to cradle in one arm. His arousal is obvious, his skin flushing from throat to chest.

Antony takes in every inch revealed, gaze hungrily roaming over his boy. His cock's hard, aching, begging to be buried in his boy, but he's got his plans. "I can hardly wait until this," his fingers brush the metal piercing Stephen's cock, "is healed enough to play with."

Stephen's cock jerks at the touch and a bead of clear precum eases from the slit to dampen the metal. "How...how will Sir toy with it?" he looks up from Antony's hand to his face, basking in the pride he sees there.

Antony grins. "I'll tug on it, teeth and fingers. I'll put weights on it. Attach a leash to it. Lead you around by your cock." The elevator dings and he steps out, Stephen following. "You know how a vibrator would feel against that?"

"No Sir." But Stephen can imagine. _Fuck!_ He trails after Antony down the corridor before stopping outside a room.

Antony's grin widens. "You know how inventive I am," he says, unlocking the door and stepping inside, the light flicked on behind them.

Stephen sets his clothes down on the nearest chair, his hand sliding behind his back out of the way as he waits for direction. He briefly wonders if this is Sir or whether Antony will invoke the more intense Master demeanour that they've discussed, either excites Stephen equally - being this man's boy, his sex toy is what he craves.

Antony sets the keycard on the desk and takes a good look at the room, the bed, and then Stephen. "Undress me, slave," he orders.

 _slave_ It's the first time anyone has ever called him that directly. He's been 'boy', 'slut', 'whore' all the other names a humiliation orientated submissive might be called, but this... this is new. Stephen's reaction is two-fold, his belly squeezes tight, his skin goosebumps and mentally he feels himself slip a little further down the rabbit hole.

He moves toward Antony and slowly, reverently he removes his clothes, he does so efficiently without incidental touches and caresses that he might otherwise indulge in. Antony had been clear - slave's only purpose is to please.

Naked, Antony's torn. There's plans and then there's need and right now... Fuck. "Knees, slave. Open your mouth."

Stephen's mouth is open before his knees hit the floor, his hands set palm up high on his thighs, he is a picture in perfect posture and submission. _My Sir...my Master_

Antony pushes between Stephen's lips. Cups the back of his head and watches as his cock slowly disappears between them, a soft groan spilling from his own.

Closing his mouth around that incredible thick length, Stephen starts to work his Sir's cock exactly the way he knows Sir likes it best. A lot of sucking, tongue work, wet and messy, he doesn't hold back his noises either. He does maintain his posture, very aware that he's merely a tool for Antony's pleasure. Nothing more.

"Fuck, yeah, that's it," Antony groans, rocking his hips, groin pressed tight against Stephen's mouth with every thrust.

Clearly he's got the angle of his head just right, because that's the only damned way he can take all of Antony down to the root without gagging and heaving. Trained Stephen might be, but he still has issues with it on occasion. All there is for him right now is the taste and smell of his Master, overpowering, intoxicating.

Another few thrusts and Antony pulls back, out, his cock slick with spit and precome. He's breathing heavily, aching, but he doesn't want to come like this. "I'm not coming until it's in your cunt. Get on the bed, on your back," he orders.

The unexpected removal of Antony's prick is enough to make him sway forward for a brief moment, he licks a string of saliva from his lower lip and then drops down onto all fours to crawl to the bed, climbing up and laying down as directed. He catches sight of himself in the mirrors above the bed, his skin is flushed, marbled with a rosy hue, his eyes are wide, darker from where his pupils are blown and his chin is wet with the residue of his recent use.

"Look at you," Antony murmurs, crawling onto the bed. "How fucking hard you get from having my cock shoved down your throat."

"All I taste is you, all I can smell is you..." Stephen murmurs, his voice has a soft almost breathy quality to it. "My Sir."

"Your Master," Antony says, wrapping his hand around Stephen's cock. His grip almost painfully tight.

Stephen's breath hitches at the hint of pain, his eyes widen for a moment then on his next breath he corrects himself. "My Master, my All."

"Good." Antony gives Stephen's cock a few rough strokes, careful of his piercing, and then reaches for the lube. Fingers liberally slicked, his eyes locked on Stephen's face, he slips them between his thighs, pushing two into him, as deep as they'll go.

Whenever, however, his Sir, his _Master_ possesses his body in this fashion, be that with his fingers, his cock or more infrequently a dildo, Stephen's immediate reaction is always a spike of pleasure and sometimes that pleasure is accompanied with a bite of delicious pain. Stephen's mouth falls open, and he makes a little noise, a shuddery moan, his head tipping back into the bed, his shoulders pressing down, his hips coming up.

A third finger quickly follows, Antony stretching Stephen open, demanding that his body give.

 _This is not about you..._ Stephen bears down, willing his body to be as obedient as his mind.

Three fingers stilled deep inside Stephen and Antony leans in, tongue flicking over one nipple and then the other, teeth grazing the rigid nubs as they tighten.

 _...'I'm going to bite you'..._ The words echo in Stephen's mind as Antony employs just a hint of teeth, heightening his anticipation still further. His fingers close around the fine cotton bed covers beneath him, his thighs falling open just a fraction more.

Antony closes his teeth around one perfect tight nub, the edges digging in, gently then a little harder and harder still.

It had been made clear to Stephen that he wasn't to move if he wanted to be allowed to orgasm at some point, but he'd been given no such direction when it came to making noises. So he doesn't hold back, no more than he might any other time. As Antony's teeth close around his nipple Stephen cries out, the sound stuttering and rising as the pain rises.

The other nipple gets the same treatment, Antony's fingers curled, stroking over that bundle of nerves inside his boy, his slave, his own cock leaking, jerking with Stephen's pain.

"Yesyesyesyes," the chant is barely audible, but it's a direct response to the pleasure and the pain he's being subjected to. Both the play of his Sir's fingers deep inside him, lighting him up like nothing else can, and the torment of Antony's teeth. A perfect combination executed with all the knowledge and skill his lover's possesses.

Antony licks and sucks and bites his way lower, waiting until he's just under Stephen's ribs to _really_ bite, sinking his teeth sharply into Stephen's flesh.

This time Stephen's cry is louder, sharper, before trailing off to a soft whimper. The threat is there - and it wouldn't be the first time his Sir, his Master, has wanted to taste his blood - but Antony stops just shy of breaking skin, satisfying himself it seems on leaving bruises instead. Stephen's skin is dampening with sweat, his breath ragged as he rides out pain.

Antony licks over the mark he's made, moving lower and more to the centre before he takes another bite. He's rock hard, dripping, every cry of pain from Stephen heightening his arousal, his fingers constantly moving inside his boy.

Stephen's arousal is starting to spiral past his control, those wicked fingers stimulating his prostate are unrelenting, and the bites... he's sure he can almost feel the soft rumble of a growl as his Sir sinks his teeth into his flesh. "Sir! Boy.... boy... he needs to cum..." The words are bitten out around full body shudders.

"Is that so?" Antony murmurs, lifting his head. He grins, rubbing right _there_.

"Oh! Fuck! Sir! Nonononono..." Stephen's upper body comes up off the bed, his neck corded, his shoulders tense as he keens out his frustration, he grits his teeth and hisses in Antony's face, pushed so close to the edge he fights with all he has to not orgasm, to not cum without permission. Not now, not when he's even less than 'boy'.

Antony holds Stephen's gaze for a moment, rubs over that spot once more, then nods. "Do it. Come for me." Another time he'll push even harder, but this isn't it.

He can't look away - even as his whole body contorts with the force of his orgasm, as his cock dribbles out semen over his belly, even as he keens out an pained sounding noise, he never breaks that eye contact. Stephen gifts Antony all of it, his pain and his pleasure. All of himself - just as a slave should.

Fuck yes. The intensity of it all and the clench of Stephen's body, unforgiving around his fingers, makes his cock jerk again, dangerously close. Has Antony using every bit of his own willpower to ride this out with his boy because he's not anywhere near being done.

When he's done, when the last wave of pleasure leaves him Stephen slumps back to the bed, breathless and dazed, his eyes closed as he slips away into the afterglow.

Antony smiles, easing his fingers from Stephen's ass, a surprisingly gentle kiss pressed to his hipbone before he gives him the next order. "Turn over."

It's a struggle, Stephen's limbs are refusing to co-operate as he tries to roll over, he pushes up onto all fours and shuffles his thighs further apart, ass up, he sways a little, clearly not in full control of himself.

"I'm not done," Antony warns, licking over one ass cheek before he sinks his teeth in again.

Pain with pleasure is a thing Stephen can handle, pain immediately post orgasm is a whole other ball game. He feels it all, he's sure he can feel every single one of Antony's teeth as it sinks into his butt. He groans, struggling now with the urge to pull away.

"Two more," Antony tells him, giving Stephen at least that. Rising up over him as he decides where to place the next one. Lower back, just under his ribs again.

Two more Stephen can work with, he grinds his teeth through the pain, and concentrates on his breathing, telling himself repeatedly _this is for Sir, it pleases Sir..._

The last one gets placed high up on the back of Stephen's shoulder, Antony sinking his teeth in deeper here than even before. He's _thisclose_ to breaking the skin but contents himself with the bite, with the bruise, with the mark he knows'll be there for days.

"Sir!" Now Stephen does try to move, the pain washes away the last residue of his subspace leaving him feeling everything in excruciating detail.

One arm wrapped around Stephen's waist, Antony holds him there until he's done. A perfect deep dark bite mark laid in his boy's skin.

The arm grounds him, skin on skin always does that, Stephen's movements slow and still, until all there is, is the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, eyes shut, mouth open.

Stephen's already slicked, already open, and Antony moves behind him, lining up and pushing deep, slowly but steadily, sinking in the incredible heat of his boy's body. _Mine._

Skin to skin, skin in skin, Stephen arches back without thought, he always wants this, Antony inside him, loving him, fucking him, _using_ him. "ThankyouSir," he slurs out, half turning his head.

Antony drags his nails down Stephen's sides, grips his ass and pulls back, plunging in hard on the next thrust. Sinks himself into his boy with a growl again and again.

Each punishing thrust forces the air from Stephen, leaving him reeling. He braces himself, one hand up against the headboard, the other still pressed into the bed. His cock is flaccid, his pleasure in this is entirely about what Sir wants, what Sir needs, what Sir takes.

Antony wraps one arm around Stephen's chest and pulls him upright, into his lap, changing the angle of his thrusts. His other hand goes around Stephen's throat, cupping it tightly as he fucks into him even harder than before.

This... this is a whole new level of intense. Loving, brutal, fingers threaten to close around Stephen's throat, and his ass is being filled by his Sir's thick cock. He can smell Antony, his sweat, his musky sex scent, he can feel his Sir's breath on his skin. It's perfect and Stephen lets himself drown in it. "Master..."

"Mine," Antony answers, kissing the side of Stephen's throat, his fingers tightening further. "Your cunt, your cock, your skin, your fucking breath... all of it..."

"Yes," the word is genuinely choked out, he licks over his lower lip aware that he's starting to focus only on the effort of breathing. "..all of me...always, always was..."

Antony nods, slowly tightening his grip as he thrusts nice and deep, once, twice and again, his cock spurting, hot and thick, flooding his boy's ass - his cunt - with his seed.

It's as if Stephen can feel Antony's orgasm from a distance, his air shut off, even for a few moments, is enough to have Stephen's vision greying at the edges, he doesn't fight it, he trusts his Sir implicitly, so he gives in as his blood pounds in his ears.... _thumpthumpthump...._

Antony empties himself inside Stephen, his grip easing up with each and every aftershock until he's still cupping his boy's throat but without any pressure behind it.

Head dropped back on Antony's shoulder, Stephen is barely able to keep himself upright, the feel of Antony's fingers on his skin is like a brand.

Antony eases his cock from Stephen's body and lies down, pulling Stephen into his arms, against his chest. "You make me so proud," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Stephen's temple.

Stephen's lashes flutter and he opens his eyes, unfocused and dazed he reaches out to stroke over Antony's skin, fingers playing over chest hair. "You're everything," he murmurs softly.

"So are you," Antony responds with another kiss, his chest tight with emotion. With all that he feels for Stephen.

"I think..." Stephen pauses to stretch a little, before continuing, "...we just found something I want to put in my top five."

Antony chuckles. "Which? The biting or the breathplay?" he asks, although he's pretty sure he knows the answer.

"Being fucked like that, with your hand on my throat," Stephen nuzzles in, a kiss pressed to the corner of Antony's mouth. "Taking my breath."

Antony makes a soft sound at that, both the kiss and the words. "Top five?"

Pulling back just enough to engage eye contact, Stephen nods. "Boots, anal, humiliation, that..." he whispers. "My life...in your hands..."

Fuck. Stephen's life in his hands. Antony nods. "I won't ever let you come to harm," he whispers back. A solemn promise.

"I know that." And Stephen does, he trust Antony implicitly.

"But I fucking love taking your breath while I fuck you," Antony grins, unable to resist. "Top five for me too."

Stephen smiles at that, he reaches up to brush his fingers over Antony's mouth. "What's your favorite thing? Outside of stuffing my ass with you, things..."

"Humiliation," Antony responds, without hesitation, pressing a kiss to those fingers.

"Hmm," Stephen hums out his approval at that. No one has ever pushed him, humiliated him like Antony has. "I love that too."

"We need to do even more with that," Antony murmurs. "More military, more other roleplays, interrogation in Russian," he grins, "prison, public..." Fuck, they haven't done too much of that. "Cit, I mean."

Despite his exhaustion, having been used so thoroughly, Stephen's dick kicks up at that, so much so Antony can't have missed it. Stephen smirks and looks down between them and back up at Antony. "Yes, hell yes, all of it. You've not found a limit there, not yet."

"You want the guys to stay in next time we do the military thing?" Antony asks, grin widening at Stephen's reaction. "Watch what I do to you?"

"If you like," Stephen demurs. "That first time was when we were still so new to each other, it's different now."

"It wouldn't add anything for you?" Antony asks, curious. "Having those guys watch you be my pig, my cum dump. Wishing they were you, or me, maybe even jerking off while they watched?"

And that, that makes Stephen squirm, a reaction to the concept of his humiliation that he hasn't had in months. He'd always had an odd relationship with it, craving it whilst experiencing deep shame at the same time, two sides of himself at war - the need had always won. And since Antony the shame had lessened, his Sir instilling a rightness, a permission to enjoy this kink.

"I didn't say that," he confesses, his gaze dropping away.

"Hey," Antony murmurs, knowing how Stephen still feels sometimes about his desires. "Look at me. We're supposed to be able to talk about this. The idea's fucking hot, isn't it?"

Vulnerable from his recent descent into subspace, his mind still reeling from the intensity of what they've just done Stephen almost flinches at what feels like a rebuke _'we're supposed to be able to talk about this...'_

"Yes Sir," he whispers. "Yes, yes it is." And it _is_ a hot idea, smoking hot, but that doesn't mean Stephen isn't feeling a little ambiguous about it.

Stephen's obviously still uncomfortable and Antony's not going to push it. He simply hugs Stephen in close and kisses the top of his head. "I love you," he whispers. "More than anything. More than I ever could've imagined."


End file.
